


Something Like Home

by cheyennesunrise



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s02e18 All In, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 13:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1057455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheyennesunrise/pseuds/cheyennesunrise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Some of us don’t get to grow old with the ones we love.” Harold considers John’s words. Tag to 2x18 (All In). Fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> First POI fic on this site. I hope you like it!

“Some of us don’t get to grow old with the ones we love.”

John’s words flashed across Harold’s mind again like a news ticker on an endless loop.

He also remembered Lou’s words.

“You’re still breathing. It’s not too late! Go to her, Harold, today, while you still have the time.”

Harold’s thoughts drifted to Grace, with her delicate artist’s hands and her ethereal cloud of red hair.

Something twisted in his chest, and Harold blinked hard to fight the tears that never seemed to fall.

Grace was in his heart, yes, but she was distant, dreamlike, forever shrouded in the regret and mystery of what might have been

She was the green light at the end of his dock, his Daisy, ever unattainable.

Harold had spent far too many years living in the past. He was fumbling, reaching, longing for an explanation, an answer, but he found none.

And yet, he was determined not to be a boat against the current. Harold had forged on, finding a new purpose and a new partner in a brave new world, and they were the unseen saviors.

Harold considered Lou’s words again, and he wondered if he would ever be able to move on from all of this. He wondered if he would ever grow old with the one that he loved, or if he would even grow old at all.

Harold’s eyes drifted to his computer screen. The answer was immediate. He would never be able to abandon the numbers or this suicide mission.

It would be he and John against the world, forever.

_Forever._

Harold scoffed at the notion of eternity, but there was something comforting about the pattern he and John had perfected: the morning coffee, the evening walks, the afternoons with Bear.

He knew that this mission would eventually kill them, but he would stick with it as long as he could, and he hoped that John would too.

Harold often saw the longing in John’s eyes when they discussed domestic life: kids, a wife, a house in the suburbs.

He also saw the steely resolve in John’s eyes when they received a new number, and he knew that their partnership would endure.

Harold knew that John was content to remain on the edges of society, even if it meant that he would never have a normal life. They were on the edges of society, living in the dark, but they weren’t alone.

John’s words came back to Harold now.

“Some of us don’t get to grow old with the ones we love.”

Harold realized that John had never claimed to be one of those people.

It might have been implied, but no, there was something else there. He remembered the sadness and regret in John’s green eyes, but there was something else there too.  
There was an intensity, a longing, and his gaze had cut straight through Harold. 

He suddenly felt the urge to call John, so Harold pulled out his iPhone and flicked through his contacts.

He pressed on John’s name and waited for the other man to answer.

“Finch?”

“Mr. Reese,” he stammered.

“Is everything all right?” John asked suddenly. Harold could hear the concern in his voice and he cursed his impulsiveness.

“No, everything’s fine, John,” he said quickly. 

“I was just wondering if you wanted to meet up at the diner,” he added. 

There was a brief pause.

“Sure, I’ll be there by eight,” John replied. Harold could almost hear him smiling through the phone.

He pulled on his tweed outer coat and made sure that Bear was content.

“I’ll be back soon,” he said, patting the Malinois on the head.

When Harold arrived at the diner, he spotted John almost right away. The taller man was leaning against the wall in the waiting area with a wide grin on his face.

“What’s the occasion, Harold?” he beamed.

“No occasion, Mr. Reese,” Harold said quickly, slipping back into his usual formalities.

“Did you miss me?” John said slyly. He raised an eyebrow at Finch, and the older man cleared his throat.

“Yes, actually.”

John’s eyes widened, but his gaze was gentle and cautious. 

“Is everything okay, Finch? You seem different tonight,” he said quietly.

“Everything’s fine, Mr. Reese. I was just thinking about what you said before,” Finch replied.

He motioned for John to follow him, and they took their spot at a booth by the door.

“What do you mean? Are you talking about Grace?” John asked.

“Yes and no. I appreciate what you said about Grace, but I was referring to the other thing that you said,” Harold said mysteriously.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” John said, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.

Harold looked down at the menu and absentmindedly flipped through the pages. 

“Mr. Reese,” he began.

He inhaled sharply and lifted his eyes to meet John’s stare.

“John, you said that some people don’t get to grow old with the ones that they love. I don’t want you to feel like you’re stuck with me. I was alone for a very long time, and I know how devastating it can be,” he said quickly, breathlessly.

“In fact, I had to bury myself in my work, in the Machine, for many years. I don’t want you to be isolated like I was,” he faltered, dropping his eyes.

“Harold, I’m here because I want to be here. Also, I never said that I was alone,” John said slowly. He put a hand on Harold’s, and the older man met his gaze once more.

“John, this is going to kill us someday. We might not even get the chance to grow old,” he said softly.

“I’ll take my chances, Harold. I’ll keep on doing this as long as you’ll have me,” John said with a grin.

“Thank you, Mr. Reese,” Harold said gently.

“Would you rather go back to the library for a little bit? We probably need to let Bear out anyway,” John said with a twinkle in his eye.

“Excellent idea,” Harold said. His lips twitched into an imperceptible smile.

John stood up and stretched his arms. He offered a hand to Harold, and he gratefully accepted. 

“Let’s come back here tomorrow,” John said with a wink.

“Another excellent idea, Mr. Reese,” Harold beamed. 

He held onto John for a moment longer, savoring the warmth of the other man’s hand around his own.

John looked down at Harold and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, drawing him closer to the scent of aftershave and coffee and home.

End.


End file.
